“Or that!” Alonzo said, pointing to the wall. Miggy leaped forward, pried out the cleaver, and brought it back to Alonzo. “I missed on purpose. The next time, you might not be so lucky, so we should both agree right now that there will not be a next time. One more time—my house, my rules. Now where’s my money?”

The bravado drained from the voice of the man standing in front of him. He started to shake. When he finally spoke, his voice no longer sounded confident. “I don’t have any money on me. That should be obvious to you. I’m willing to compromise. I’ll pay half of the remaining money, but you have to finish the job.”

Alonzo laughed. Miggy joined in the laughter.

“Listen to me, Mr. Hot Shot. I don’t have to do anything. My boys will escort you to wherever you need to go to get the money, and not half, either. I want the full amount. Didn’t your mama ever teach you that a man is only as good as his word? Now, if you want to negotiate a new contract, the price is double. I’m done talking to you. Miggy, escort the man outdoors and have Team Three follow for the handover. Same place as the last time. Don’t be late. You have two hours, Mr. Hot Shot!

“Oh, one last thing. Like I said, we do not do do-overs. Your man Cricket is under guard and will be for a long time to come. Right now he’s safer than the president of the United States. No one, and I repeat, no one, will be able to get near him. I am not going to risk jail time for my boys to make you happy. Find someone else to do your dirty work. A deal is a deal. And remember this: Our original project is still on the books, so don’t mess with me. I don’t like it when people try to tell me what to do. And as long as we’re having this discussion, I want to remind you that payment for our original contract is due in two weeks. That means the rubber meets the road two weeks from today, at which time I become a rich man. Tell me right now if that’s going to be a problem.”

“It’s not going to be a problem,” Hot Shot said through clenched teeth.

“Then you are free to go,” Alonzo said imperiously as he waved the meat cleaver back and forth.

Outside in the fresh air, Hot Shot gagged and retched as he sprinted to his car. Right alongside Hot Shot’s dusty Saab SUV, a rusted-out Honda Civic rumbled and wheezed as the driver prepared to follow the SUV with the mud-covered license plates.

Inside the stifling, ramshackle building, Alonzo and Miggy high-fived each other.